Understanding of Light
by DustAndBones
Summary: After the death of his brother leaving him with massive amount of debt, Ludwig Beilschmidt was on the lowest point of his life. He was poor and grieving. Thankfully, his brother's friend Antonio helped him to work as a model for famous Italian painter, Feliciano Vargas, a figure Ludwig admired for long time. What would happen when they live on the same house? (Human AU)
1. Wet Soil

_I want you to stop running from thing to thing to thing, and to sit down at the table, to offer the people you love something humble and nourishing, like soup and bread, like a story, like a hand holding another hand while you pray. We live in a world that values us for how fast we go, for how much we accomplish, for how much life we can pack into one day. But I'm coming to believe it's in the in-between spaces that our lives change, and that the real beauty lies there._

— Shauna Niequist

* * *

Antonio Fernández never saw Ludwig Beilschmidt cried before.

He never even saw him showing any kind of negative emotion at all.

But it had came to this. After a long struggle with his health and financial state, Gilbert Beilschmidt was forced to give up on his business and life, leaving his younger brother with debt and despair. Knowing Gilbert since the albino decided to raise Ludwig on his own, the news of Gilbert's death broke Antonio's heart more than the Spaniard expected.

Gilbert was a dear friend of his and Antonio was more than fond with Gilbert's existence. He was always such a fire cracker and seeing him made Antonio believe that dreamers will eventually get to where they dream of. But reality was cruel and Gilbert's brilliant idea had to be buried on the pile of failed experiment and eventual debt. When Gilbert's health deteriorated, Antonio knew he had to brace for the worst. He didn't know it would be so much more painful to see young Ludwig, no older than age of twenty-five, being left alone in the world.

Antonio was in no position of helping Ludwig, even financially. It was a little embarrassing to admit, but the thirty-six years old man was practically living of his partner Lovino Vargas. Antonio was Lovino's guardian until he reached a legal age, where the Italian was allowed to get back to his country and inheriting numerous amount of money from his grandparents. When Antonio thought he was heading towards bankruptcy, Lovino saved him. Now they didn't have to play the parent and child role again, for Lovino was in the position where he could declare his love to Antonio and saved him for life.

Antonio was sure that Lovino would allow Ludwig to stay on his mansion for sometime, but he knew he didn't really have long-term plan on how he could help Ludwig. The boy was left alone with such burden. Antonio didn't know whether he was so angry or so sad, but he knew grieving was such a tiresome experience. And he was just Gilbert's friend, not his brother or his only family. Antonio still had Lovino, but Ludwig had no one else. It must be more than very hard for him to watch Gilbert's coffin being lowered to the ground, to disappear from the surface of earth. It was enough to make stoic, sullen-faced Ludwig to cry—perhaps for the first time since forever.

And Antonio couldn't help but to cry too.

* * *

"Antonio, I truly apologise, but I can't stay in your place. Your partner doesn't like me," Ludwig shook his head.

Antonio gritted his teeth, "But I can't let you stay in this sad hostel forever! Lovino is just being childish, Ludwig. I can persuade him—"

But Ludwig just shook his head again.

They sat on the small deli across hostel where Ludwig stayed, where Ludwig had only two bags of everything that was left from his former life. Antonio treated Ludwig with Currywurst and hot chocolate for late lunch. The whole time, Ludwig refused to see him in the eyes, breaking Antonio's heart even more. He knew Ludwig didn't have enough money to have at least two meals per day, since those bastards had squeezed whatever money Ludwig left to cover Gilbert's debt.

After sitting sometime in silence while Ludwig finished his meal, Antonio felt his phone was buzzing. He took it out from his coat pocket and read a message from Lovino, stating that he had to do "another impossibly stupid job" for his twin brother, because the painter needed some kind of model.

Antonio smiled a little. Lovino's tantrum always brought smile to his lips somehow. He was quite disappointed that Lovino would have to act quite childish when it comes to helping Ludwig, but Antonio knew that they could become good friend if only Lovino gave Ludwig chance. But Lovino was still his saviour. He was still the love of Antonio's life. After glancing at Ludwig for a while, making sure he was still there and eating, Antonio tapped his phone and replied, 'What kind of model?'

Lovino's answer came almost immediately, 'Some kind of stupid buff male. Says he'll be paid handsomely. I don't understand artists, Antonio. Can't he be settled with farming tomatoes like me and stopped messing around with paint all day?'

Antonio chuckled. Lovino's twin brother was an extremely gifted painter who had held several major exhibitions all over Europe, though Antonio must say that he was just as unique as Lovino. Financially wise, his brother was on better position than Lovino. Antonio sighed, taking his sight away from his phone's screen. He wanted to help Lovino as always, but right now he had his plate full with Ludwig…

_Wait._

Ludwig. Ludwig _was _a buff male! His struggle with his brother's life for the past several years didn't stop him from getting up early in the morning and working out. He was so disciplined to the point that Antonio found it scary.

For a moment, making Ludwig worked for Lovino's brother seemed like a brilliant idea. Lovino was well enough on his own, but his brother always got extra money from painting, coverage, and exhibition in general. He was more than capable to help Ludwig.

But…

But his brother was the exact opposite of what Ludwig was; efficient, disciplined, and thorough. They would look like night and day just by standing next to each other, since he was shorter, tanned, with far darker hair colour. Would they be able to work together? Antonio wasn't worried about Ludwig at all, knowing the German could pull off professional manner wherever he works, but Antonio wanted to make this work so bad. Throwing just about anyone at Lovino's brother could harm his relationship with the Italian as well.

But then again, Antonio thought, wasn't modelling simply mean that Ludwig just had to stand there and doing nothing? That alone should be enough. They didn't have to have same kind of personality when it was all about physique appearance for work. The Spaniard made up his mind. This seemed to be the best option for everyone, after all. It wasn't like he could visit this hostel every single day. Antonio knew Ludwig would be so much happier living with someone who would care whether he ate properly or sleeping comfortably.

So he returned his phone to his coat's pocket and looked at Ludwig who had finished his meal.

"Say, Ludwig... do you think you want to get job outside Germany?"

* * *

Ludwig Beilschmidt couldn't help but to feel cheap when he heard that he was offered to become model for a painter. So now he was down to the degree where he sold his look, his body to live. But after a moment of hesitation and brows furrowing, Ludwig knew he really didn't have a choice. Antonio also mentioned the possibility of the painter giving him accommodation and Ludwig felt he would at least feel better living somewhere he didn't have to share bedroom with another seven people, with most of them being backpacker and changed regularly every weeks or so.

The next day, Antonio took him personally to bring Ludwig to this painter, a twin of Lovino. The journey from Germany to Northern Italy took sometime. Ludwig didn't know much about Lovino, let alone his twin brother. He could understand, nevertheless, why Lovino thought rather badly of him. Gilbert's reputation certainly didn't help and Antonio always helped him big time that it was easier to think that Ludwig only used Antonio for easy money, though Antonio denied it repeatedly.

"Do I need to know anything about this painter, Antonio?" Ludwig asked while he was sitting next to Antonio on his car. He couldn't help but to see grimness in everything, even on the beautiful Italian scenery outside. They were close to the painter's place now. Ludwig was aware of the prospect that his new boss would be offended if he didn't know him as famous painter.

Antonio chuckled, "I don't think so, Ludwig. He's a very, very easy going person."

Ludwig didn't really like the sound of that. He was the complete opposite of easy going.

Antonio watched his expression and laughed, "Relax, Lutz. It will be fine. Unlike Lovino, I must admit, Feliciano is such a sweetheart. You'll fall in love with him in no time."

That was the first time Ludwig heard the painter's name, the name of his new boss and Lovino's twin.

"Feliciano?"

"Oh, yeah, that's his name. I just realised I never told you that."

"Feliciano? Feliciano Vargas, _that _Italian painter?"

"Well—yes."

"He's… Lovino's _twin _brother?"

Ludwig knew about Feliciano Vargas. When he was just a teenager, he came to solo exhibition of the Italian's works on Berlin. Gilbert promised him that someday they would be rich enough to buy just one painting of Feliciano Vargas. Ludwig only rolled his eyes to his brother's remark, but he secretly wish that his brother would fulfil that promise.

Even though Ludwig knew nothing about art since he spent the majority of his life hoping he could be engineer while studying engineering in university, he saw absolute beauty in Feliciano Vargas' painting. What was also amazing was the painter wasn't far from his age. He was only about five years older if Ludwig recalled correctly.

Now he was going to meet the infamous Feliciano Vargas and even work for him.

"A-Antonio… are you sure it will be okay?"

"What do you mean, Ludwig?"

"I mean… me… working for Feliciano Vargas… I don't think I make the cut."

"Oh, Lutz… relax! You will be just fine. Feliciano will like you."

That didn't convince Ludwig, but it wasn't like he could ask Antonio to turn back. Beside, Feliciano Vargas already held a solo exhibition in Berlin when he was only on his early twenties. As much as Ludwig hated to admit it, Feliciano Vargas' wealth was quite appealing for him now.

"Are we still far from his place?" Ludwig asked after some moment of silence. He loved the view of beautiful field outside, but he couldn't wait to get there. He was a fan of Feliciano Vargas' works after all.

"Well, all these fields belong to him," Antonio shrugged.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. You will be swimming on wine when you get there. But maybe he'll get you best German beer if you ask him…"

"I can't possibly do that, Antonio."

Antonio only chuckled.

After fifteen minutes of ride, silence-filled since Ludwig wasn't really able to say anything, they finally saw a large mansion in the distance.

Ludwig ran out of words as they drove closer to the mansion. After the gate automatically open at the sight of their car, they went through a garden. The garden was beautifully arranged with perfect mix of shrubs, trees, and statues of various pose and size. The place was awfully quiet for some reason.

"Feliciano loves his solitude—or so Lovino told me," Antonio said, as if he was able to read Ludwig's thought.

Ludwig only smiled weakly in return. He wasn't sure on everything. He never worked as model before. What if Feliciano didn't like him? What if he couldn't work properly for he had experience at this job at all? Before he could ask more questions that seemingly had no answer, the car he was in stopped.

Antonio parked the car right before marble stairs to main door. Ludwig couldn't help but to feel intimidated as he took one of his bags while Antonio helped him with the other.

Antonio rang the bell after throwing a calming smile toward his friend's brother. Ludwig thought it would take sometime until the door was open, but it opened almost immediately.

A man stood behind the opened door. He was at least three inches shorter than Ludwig. His hair was auburn and his eyes were the colour of honey. His first word was, "Ve…!" Followed by, "Antonio! It's a-really nice to see you!"

After greeting Antonio with a hug, his sight fell to Ludwig behind Antonio. The German couldn't help but to gulp when Feliciano Vargas laid his eyes on him for the first time. Ludwig didn't know whether he just imagined things or not, but he believed that the Italian's eyes were lit up as he saw him. Ludwig opened his mouth to greet his new employer, to say something at all just to be polite, but Feliciano spoke first.

"And you must be Ludwig Beilschmidt! Welcome to my house! I'm Feliciano Vargas. It's a pleasure to meet you!" Feliciano Vargas chirped cheerily, walking towards his new model before giving Ludwig the tightest hug the blond ever received on his life.

Antonio smiled as Ludwig glanced at him confusedly, having Feliciano Vargas' arms around his waist.

The Spaniard mouthed, 'I _told_ you he will like you.'

* * *

**I read a book on a famous painter and his model and I can't help but to write a GerIta version of it. I hope you enjoy this opening chapter as much as I wrote it. I can't wait to write Ludwig and Feliciano living together. See you on the next chapter.**

**The cover image I use for this story is a public domain. The image is made by weinstock at pixabay.**


	2. Windy Vineyard

_Everyone gets lonely some time or other. After all, if we look closer into ourselves, shall we not admit that the warmth from other people comes so sweet to us when it comes, because, we always carry with us the knowledge of the cold loneliness of death?_

— Ama Ata Aidoo, __Our Sister Killjoy__

* * *

As he entered Feliciano Vargas' house, Ludwig's heart was filled with longing to speak to his brother. Gilbert would be so happy to see house of such a great artist. Ludwig didn't know whether he projected his admiration too much to his surrounding, but Feliciano Vargas' house seemed so magnificent it was almost dream-like. In reality, it wasn't any different than some of grand hotel Ludwig had chance to visit in the past, though he saw Italian twist here and there. He could tell that everything was sturdy, expensive, and beautiful, ranging from marble floor under his only shoes to chandelier sparkling on the tall ceiling. Everything seemed sparkling and almost surreal.

Especially with Feliciano Vargas stood there, on his white shirt and warm smile.

When Ludwig went to that exhibition years ago, he had an imagination on how Feliciano Vargas looked like on his head. Judging from his painting, he must be very gentle, loving, wise, and protecting. Ludwig couldn't help but to imagine a large, grandfather-like figure, even though he knew that Feliciano Vargas was a man on his early twenties. Some of his paintings were so large, grand, and had so much details that Ludwig found it difficult to imagine that the small man who was now smiling at him was the one who paint them.

"Well, then I'll be off," Antonio said. His words broke the silence and Ludwig just realised that he was standing there, looking around and thinking without doing anything else.

"Ve? Aren't you going to stay for lunch, Antonio?" Feliciano frowned.

Antonio shook his head, gesturing to the phone he held on his hand, "Lovino is getting restless. He said that if I was done with my business with you, I should get back to him."

Feliciano laughed. Ludwig was flinched in surprise by the sound of the Italian's laughter. It sounded like a singing. It rang beautifully to Ludwig's ear. He didn't think that Feliciano Vargas would have such a hearty, refreshing laugh.

"My _fratello _is quite handful, eh?" he smiled at Antonio, who blushed a little. "Well then, I guess it can't be helped! I'll show Ludwig around myself. Take care of yourself, Antonio!"

Antonio waved to Feliciano and nodded to Ludwig before exited the door.

Only when the sound of his car disappeared that Ludwig realised that he was alone with Feliciano Vargas. _The _Feliciano Vargas. Ludwig was a composed person in general, but he didn't really know what do when he was left alone with someone like the Italian painter.

The painter walked closer to him. He was smaller, but somehow he felt bigger and more intimidating than his appearance suggested. Feliciano looked up at Ludwig.

"Do you find me scary, Ludwig?"

He didn't expect Feliciano to asked him such question. It was like nothing escaped him. Maybe painter has different eyes with normal people. Ludwig slowly nodded, because that was the truth. 'Scary' might not be the most correct word, but since none of them speak English as their first language, the word should do for now.

"Ve? It's a-funny! Because you're bigger than me and you're so buff! Why should you be scared of me?" Feliciano chuckled, waving his hands as he did. Ludwig felt a strange mixture of admiration and wanting to hug this adorable auburn-haired man.

"I saw your exhibition in Berlin almost ten years ago," Ludwig admitted after Feliciano stopped chuckling, trying to keep staring back at Feliciano with all his might. "I… really like them. I think you're an amazing artist. I'm a little nervous to be around you, _Herr_ Vargas."

Ludwig eventually took his eyes from Feliciano, but the second he did, Feliciano quickly wrapped himself around Ludwig's waist once again, laughing happily.

"Ve! Just 'Feliciano' is okay! Ludwig, you are so cute!"

Ludwig was completely unfamiliar with this gesture. They met for less than ten minutes and Feliciano already hugged him twice. Gilbert hugged him once in a while, but it was mostly sideways hug and it was always very brief. Antonio, who was probably the second closest person to him in his life prior to Gilbert's death, never advanced behind polite handshake. Perhaps it had a lot to do with the fact that he was German, Antonio was Spanish, and Feliciano was Italian. Perhaps. Ludwig never had a lot of friends. He didn't think he need to.

Even though the whole hugging thing was indeed unfamiliar, it didn't mean that Ludwig dislike them. He never remembered his parents or any other parental figure giving him hug or kiss before bed. Gilbert was the only family member he had. Didn't get enough hugs means Ludwig didn't really know what do with someone else's hand wrapped around them. Should he hug back? How tight he should hug back without hurting Feliciano? He seemed so slender. Is it normal to hug someone who employs you—to hug your boss? All these questions popped out inside his head and kept appearing. But all the questions he had in mind about hugging seemed to disappear when Feliciano Vargas nuzzled against his shoulder.

Ludwig had to make correction. He didn't dislike hug. He actually found it very endearing. The warmth of Feliciano's body made him feel like everything was okay again. An image entered his mind before Ludwig realised it; he was back in Germany, sitting with Gilbert and their three dogs upon warm fire on the living room, full with hearty dinner and nicely drunk from several glasses of beer. The image made his heart pang with ache. He subconsciously twitched his finger, as if he wanted to hug Feliciano back, but in the end, his arms stay where they were.

Feliciano squeezed Ludwig once again before pulling back slowly and smiling, "You're so buff and warm! But if you don't like my hug, I will stop! Do you like the hug?"

Ludwig looked down at Feliciano. The _actual _Feliciano Vargas hugging him like it was nothing.

"I… I don't dislike hug," Ludwig mumbled, feeling his cheeks warm and a little uncomfortable with Feliciano watching him all the time. In the end, he hadn't been able to muster the courage to say, 'I like hug.' It sounded like inappropriate thing to say to your boss, at least on Ludwig's standard.

"Ve!" the Italian hugged him one more time.

When he quickly pulled back, Ludwig couldn't help but to long for Feliciano's hug already and regretted he only said that he didn't dislike the hug. He briefly remembered that Antonio did say that Ludwig 'will fall in love with Feliciano in no time' on their drive here. Even though those words sound more like spoken out of pity back then, Ludwig couldn't help but to accept that it was the truth, that Antonio didn't pity or exaggerate. He knew he would find anyone who just hugs him around to be annoying, but Feliciano Vargas was more magical and charming than his artworks suggested. His hug made Ludwig felt warm and comfortable, more than when he stood upon the Italian's paintings years ago in Berlin.

Feliciano took his hand gently and gestured to the hall. "Would you like me to show you your room? What kind of bedroom would you like, Ludwig?"

"I—" Ludwig wasn't sure how to answer that. His face still felt hot from the hug and now all Ludwig could think of was the warmth of Feliciano's hand on his. The blond stared at Feliciano before staring down at their hands. Feliciano's hand was visibly smaller than his. Ludwig looked at those fingers; the fingers who created such magnificent works. The lighting on the room must had been great too, because he could see that Feliciano's hand was in the warmer skin colour than his milky pale hand.

And Feliciano's hand was just as warm as his hug.

Ludwig didn't think it was possible that someone _this _charming could ever exist. But there Feliciano Vargas was, holding his hand as they walked slowly down the hall.

After several beat, Ludwig answered shyly, "Uh… somewhere you think suit me best… um… _Herr _Var—Feliciano."

Feliciano nodded enthusiastically and opened one of the plentiful doors on the hall. The door leads to a beautiful bedroom with wonderful view to the vineyard outside. The bed would contain four Ludwig just fine and the rest of the furniture looked like a strange yet amusing mix of furniture for royalty's bedroom of the 19th century and minimalist, Scandinavian furniture. After several blinks, Ludwig knew that this weirdly calming mix didn't just come out of nowhere. Feliciano must be hiring some decent interior designer for his large mansion.

"Will this do, Ludwig?" ask Feliciano, smiling up at him.

Ludwig nodded slowly, clenching his bag with the hand that wasn't holding Feliciano's. This was more than enough. This was too much. Such a beautiful room with someone like him, who only had two small bags containing all the clothes and things he own.

"The bathroom is over there!" Feliciano gestured to another door at the wall. "The maids will come every morning between eight and ten. Sometimes they cook too, but I prefer cook myself. Do you like pasta, Ludwig?"

Ludwig knew his stomach was rumbling on the sound of 'pasta'. He didn't eat anything last night and had no breakfast, because he used all the money he had to pay his part to get here, this remote yet beautiful part of Italy.

He nodded on Feliciano's question.

"Let's have _spaghetti alla puttanesca_ for lunch, then!" he announced loudly before shouting, "Let's go!" And pull Ludwig's hand once again towards what he assumes would be the kitchen.

Following Feliciano, Ludwig couldn't help but smile, albeit weekly.

If this was a dream, it was a really good one and he could only wish that he wouldn't have to wake up anytime soon.

* * *

Feliciano was an exquisite cook. Ludwig was sure he didn't exaggerate when he thought that he just ate the most delicious palate of spaghetti dish in his life. Everything tasted perfect, from the sourness of the tomato to firmness of the spaghetti. He was never so full and satisfied before. His new boss worked really fast and efficient too. Seeing Feliciano cooked the sauce for the spaghetti ("It's called _sugo alla puttanesca_, Ludwig!" he informed enthusiastically) was like seeing a glimpse of him painting; gently, carefully, tenderly, and very much with love, however absurd that sound for someone like Ludwig the engineer.

Feliciano himself was quite a sight on dining table. After cooking pasta plenty enough to feed four people, he ate most of it while Ludwig had more than enough for one portion. Feliciano then finished his lunch with gelato. Ludwig wondered whether the painter always eat so much. Perhaps he needed a lot of energy to create painting. Suddenly, he wondered whether people like Leonardo da Vinci also ate a lot of food. Maybe there was a note of that somewhere on the history.

After lunch was over and Ludwig helped Feliciano to clean the dishes and kitchen, the German asked, "What are we going to do now?" He was more than ready to be asked to strip anytime and start working. It was the sole reason of him coming here after all.

But Feliciano's answer was, "It's nap time!" He said it so naturally, as if Ludwig was asking whether human breathe oxygen.

Ludwig was a little tired from his journey, so he actually loved the idea of resting. However, he felt bad for enjoying Feliciano's house and food while he hadn't do anything in return so far. It felt like he own something to the painter. It felt like debt. It felt terrible.

However, Ludwig didn't want to talk back to his new boss. So he nodded. Feliciano yawned widely like a cat, bid him 'sweet dream', and disappeared to the master bedroom at the end of the hall. Ludwig went to his new bedroom and changed his clothes for sleeping.

He forgot to ask how long the nap would take. He should ask Feliciano next time.

Lying down on the bed, Ludwig wanted to tear up out of joy. The bed felt amazing. It was so comfortable and it smelled like Lavender. He was also alone in this large bedroom. No more suspicious roommate like he had back in the hostel. In fact, no one but Feliciano was around in the radius of at least ten miles. He was alone and it felt so good. In no time, Ludwig fell asleep into first relaxing rest since his brother's death. The last things he sensed before drifting into unconsciousness were the warmth of Italian sun from the large, open-curtained window of his room, the sound of wind from the vineyard, and the memory of Feliciano Vargas' warm hug and delicious _spaghetti alla puttanesca_.

* * *

**Thanks to Seele Esser Deutsch, maryranstadler1, and oO Miss Florence Oo for the comments. Also thank you for all the favourites and follows. You guys are so precious. I'm not sure whether I should mention your username(s) as well since I never really write this kind of thing before. **

**I'm also open to any suggestion for "Understanding of Light". I guess I'll do the Ludwig-modelling-for-Feliciano or bits of it on the next chapter. I don't know about you guys, but I find drawing or being drawn by people to be such an intimate moment and I'm so thrilled to write about it! Until next time.  
**


	3. Rainy Night

_It hurts._  
_It hurts a lot._  
_But I'll keep it to myself _  
_so it doesn't hurt anyone else_

— Unknown

* * *

The hostel always smelled like stale beer, dirty laundry, and burnt paper. For the past three weeks, Ludwig Beilschmidt was the only person who still stayed there. Other people came and go, since most of them were backpackers. He became familiar with the place and people, no matter how much he dislike them. Ludwig had a feeling that he was going to stay there until he runs out of money and forced to be homeless. Antonio came once in a while, begging Ludwig to stay at his place. But Ludwig couldn't accept that. For him, it was better to suffer than to be free-loader. He still had his pride, after all.

Now, if Ludwig opened his eyes, he knew he would be there, on his small and creaky bunk bed in hostel room. He waited for smell of stale beer and loud chatter of French backpackers who stayed on the same room with him the last time. The Beilschmidt had braced himself to hear the usual sounds; chatter, city noises, and creaking from aged bunk bed. But there were none of those. It was so silent there. Instead of those noises, Ludwig opened his eyes to calming silence and darkness, to sweet smell of Lavender and king-sized bed.

Then, it all came back to him.

His journey with Antonio, the vineyards, Feliciano Vargas, _spaghetti alla puttanesca_, and nap he took. How long had he sleep there? The sun already set, but wind was still blowing, rustling the leaves outside.

Ludwig still felt like dreaming.

The bedroom he was in was so beautiful. The contrast with his previous room on the hostel was so stunning that it felt unreal, that the possibility of him still dreaming wouldn't be shocking. But everything was very much real; the silky smoothness of his blanket, the decorated fireplace in front of his large bed, and the wind blowing from still opened window on the other side of the room.

Even though it was generally dark, lights from garden outside outlined the bedroom. Ludwig turned on his side-table's small lamp and walked to the window to close it.

As he walked there, fumbling sleepily, he recounted what had happened to him so far.

After his brother's death, Ludwig lost everything but some of his items and a very small amount of money. As if that wasn't miserable enough, he also gained debt in the name of Beilschmidt brothers. Antonio, a lifelong friend of his brother, helped Ludwig with all his might. When Antonio's partner, Lovino, was helping his artist brother to find male model, Ludwig somehow fit the criteria. Now he lived in the mansion of Feliciano Vargas, one of the most famous Italian painters of the 2010s.

Ludwig knew everything was too good to be true.

The fact that Feliciano Vargas was an angel didn't help. The Italian treated him very generously.

Speaking of Feliciano, Ludwig suddenly realised that he was working to him. How long he had been napping? It was almost dinnertime now. Ludwig stood in front of the window before closing it slowly and pulling the curtain closed. Even the curtain felt so soft and amazing on his hand. Sighing, the German turned on the bedroom's main light as he told himself not to waste any more time clamouring over the beauty and wonder of his current sleeping space.

After all, it was not like he was going to stay there for long. This bedroom came with his job. Once it was over, once Feliciano Vargas finishes his painting or something in that sense, he would be out of here in no time.

Ludwig went to the bathroom to take quick shower and change from his sleeping clothes to something more presentable. After styling his hair back like he always did, he went out of his bedroom.

The hall outside his bedroom was bright with soft light from the ceiling. There were sound of music and smell of cooking from a distance.

Ludwig followed the smell and music, like a hungry animal. The food's smell was downright irresistible. He found Feliciano on the same kitchen and dining room with the one they used for lunch. The Italian still wore the white shirt he used this afternoon. But after stepping closer, Ludwig could see that Feliciano wore black dress pants and dark blue apron to guard his nice clothing from food.

Ludwig hadn't really seen it before, but Feliciano was nicely dressed. The thought missed him when they met earlier in the day. Perhaps he was nervous. Perhaps he was too busy thinking on how to react to people who hugged him again and again.

"Ludwig! You woke up? How nice!" Feliciano turned his head around and laughed happily at the sight of him.

Ludwig felt a strange desire to salute like they were in military, but he managed to nodded once and replied, "Good evening, Feliciano."

By this time, Ludwig could see Feliciano's fingers twitching. If only the Italian wasn't holding wine bottle in one hand and frying pan on another, he must had already jumped at Ludwig to hug him. Ludwig didn't know whether that left him disappointed or relieved. Too much physical contact made him very confused.

The dining table was filled with various foods. All of them were Italian. Ludwig didn't think even three people alone can finish this and every single dish looked very extravagant.

"Oh, this is your welcome party dinner!" said Feliciano, as if he read Ludwig's mind.

Ludwig quickly felt a mixture between guilt and discomfort, "With all due respect, Feliciano, you really don't need to do this for me." Ludwig was suspposed to work for Feliciano, yet he done nothing so far.

Feliciano finally put the wine bottle down and he eagerly spoke with only waving one hand, "That is nonsense! I want to do this, Ludwig! Everyone likes good food!"

Ludwig wondered whether Feliciano just trying to find reason to cook so many and eat so many later. Even though his time working for the painter hadn't reached a whole day yet, Ludwig was already struggling with reading his employee's mood and attitude. There must be some kind of book on how to understand Italian. Ludwig must find one.

After Feliciano sat the last plate of dish down, he invited Ludwig to sit on the opposite of him and to grab whatever he like. His auburn-haired boss took another mind-boggling amount of food into his direction while Ludwig took a little of everything. He hadn't eaten so much for quite sometime and the spaghetti from this afternoon still left him a little full. But Feliciano's cook was beyond amazing. Ludwig could hear his stomach begging for food by just smelling the air in the kitchen. Everything was done within degree of perfection; they were all carefully made, whether it was baked, roasted, fried, or boiled.

Feliciano tried to bring up some topics while they ate, but Ludwig couldn't really come up with satisfying response. He was too busy watching his new boss eating while talking while piling the large amount of food into his mouth. It seemed surreal that someone could appreciate the fineness of a plate of pasta like Feliciano. It didn't help to think that the same Italian who ate in front of him was the painter he admired for approximately ten years.

Ludwig ended up forget asking Feliciano on how long siesta should take or whether he should get to work soon. He only realised all that when they finished cleaning the kitchen once again—the German spent more time with extra cleaning while Feliciano just watch in awe, clapping his hands sometimes—and Feliciano told him to "have sweet and pasta dream".

* * *

Approximately fifteen minutes after dinner was finished, Ludwig heard a familiar rumbling outside. Not long after that, together with bellowing of winds, rain fell. Ludwig, who had already returned to his bedroom after Feliciano dismissed him, took a little peek from by tugging the curtain. Rain bathed the vineyard, singing and howling with the wind. There was a familiar yet unknown smell in the air.

The rain smelt different in Italy.

Sighing, Ludwig tugged the curtain close and walked to his two remaining bags. Beside his only prized possessions, they were also a grim reminder that he lost everything but two bags filled with mostly clothes, a wallet with little money, a head on his shoulders, and a small sense of dignity. Ludwig arranged his bags' content neatly on his bed and started categorise them. While he put his clothes on the wardrobe- the inside was surprisingly modern though the outside filled with Gothic ornament- the blond was thinking, like he always did.

Now that he moved his clothes to this room, Ludwig still didn't know how long he was going to stay there, in the grand mansion of Feliciano Vargas'. If he were to stay for a while, he would need to ask about where he could do his laundry. Feliciano seemed to have the maids doing his laundry, but Ludwig wouldn't be surprised to see him doing his own laundry, just like him cooking his own food.

After arranging the rest of his thing, Ludwig slipped back into his sleeping clothes and bed. He turned off all lamps but the one by his bedside and sighed another long sigh.

The rain made him restless.

Back in the hostel, he slept because he had to. He had no to choice on how to spend his night.

But here, he had so many choices.

Though there was a high chance that he was unable to sleep because he took such a long nap, Ludwig also knew that the rain did something to him. He shuffled under his blanket, trying to focus on positive things on his life so far, like getting job and great accommodation, but somehow, his mind always wandered to a certain rainy night.

It was raining the last night his brother was alive.

So then, rainy night never felt the same for Ludwig again.

He wanted to cry so badly. He really did. He always did whenever his late brother came in thought. It hurt so much just to speak, hear, or even to think of his name. Ludwig thought he was going to die from sadness because of his brother's death, sooner than the poverty might kill him. It felt impossible, painfully improbable, that he was still alive after so much grief. No one would survive such sadness.

Yet there he was.

Living. Struggling. Suffering. Remembering.

Lying alone on a bed of stranger's house in a far country, with eyes aching from wanting to cry but unable to. He could feel his body shaking, ready for sobbing and wailing, but there was nothing. There were no tears on his eyes. It was as if his tears were already dry and Ludwig had none of them left. The whole thing felt so painful, like being forced to cry but unable to shed tears.

Ludwig didn't know how long he was lying there, thinking whether he wanted to cry or wanted to die. After some points, the twenty-five years old sat and made up his mind.

He had read, from one of the book he read about sadness and grieving, that one won't be able to feel better if one does nothing. Ludwig could get off of his bed and do something. He could channel his energy to something else- something hopefully more positive than curling up on bed and wanting to cry.

He wanted to clean things up, but everything on his bedroom was already neatly ordered and his bathroom was in no need to be scrubbed. Ludwig also knew that the kitchen was sparkling clean. Realising he had no cleaning up to do, the blue-eyed male exited his room. He could at least take a look around, for he was going to live here for sometime.

Feliciano might not allowed him to wander around his house at night, so perhaps Ludwig could try to find him to ask whether he could do something or allowed to walk around.

The rain still fell outside.

The bright corridor felt a little darker because of it.

Ludwig walked quickly, nervously, with his hands on his pants' pockets. Over his shirt, he wore the indoor coat he found on his room just to add extra warmth. Of course, Ludwig didn't really feel cold, but he was desperate for some warmth. Rainy night made him feel alone and so very cold. If the living like him felt such coldness, what about the dead? He didn't want to think of his brother sleeping in such cold place while it was raining, alone and forgotten. Something inside him ache for tears, for comfort, but all Ludwig could do was pulling his stoic face like he always did his whole life.

He was looking forward to see Feliciano again. The logical part of him said that he must find the painter to ask him about what he wasn't allowed to do in this place at night, but the other part of him, the one that had him struggling with feeling emotional and pain, said something entirely different.

Ludwig wanted to see Feliciano because he liked the Italian's presence. He was unsure whether that includes the frequent hugs, but Feliciano looked at him like a parent looked at their child; Ludwig felt like he was precious. It felt like Feliciano was truly glad to have him around, even though Ludwig did absolutely nothing useful so far.

Ludwig existed; broken and incompetent.

But somehow, he could be loved and appreciated.

It truly had been sometime since Ludwig felt like it was okay just to be nobody, to just exist.

Feliciano felt him made like he was forgiven, though Ludwig knew he did nothing wrong.

The German walked with his eyes on his toes upon beautiful floor, cheeks warm with blood and thoughts of Feliciano Vargas. How was that possible, that a famous painter, the one that happened to be greatly admired by Ludwig, was also the same person who saved him by giving him job and accepting him into his life so easily? Ludwig didn't understand. He simply couldn't understand. Reality couldn't be _this_ kind. Reality was—

"Ludwig...?"

Ludwig startled by the sound of his name. It took him a whole second to realise that he was walking towards Feliciano's bedroom. The Italian must had heard his footsteps and decided to check out.

"What happens, Ludwig? Are you okay?" Feliciano smiled at him, a look of worry was on his face, and Ludwig felt his body warmed up at the sight of his smile.

The inside of Feliciano's room was dim, much darker than the corridor Ludwig stood on. There was nothing can be seen clearly but a strike of generally white light. Ludwig then realised that Feliciano installed some kind of screen on his bedroom. Perhaps he was watching something when he heard Ludwig came.

He looked very fragile with dim bedroom in the background, tussled hair, and messy clothes.

The auburn-haired man himself wore nothing but a light blue, long-sleeved shirt with some buttons undone and a black boxer. His hair was messier than when they had dinner, while a strange strand of curl stayed on the same place on the side of his head. As Feliciano muttered, "Ve...?" and tilting his head to one side, presumably waiting for Ludwig's answer, the blond couldn't help but to think that Feliciano Vargas was a really adorable man. For a mere second, Ludwig thought of initiating a hug, but then he realised how unlike him and inappropriate that would be.

Ludwig knew he still had to answer, so he spoke after clearing his throat, "I apologise, Feliciano, but I can't sleep and I feel like a walk will help."

"Oh," Feliciano nodded, smiling again.

Ludwig also nodded out of nervousness and he took a deep breath. If it were okay for him to walk around, then he would go do that until he eventually felt tired. But before he could ask for Feliciano's permission to continue his little journey, the painter spoke first.

"Come here, Luddy," the auburn-haired man smiled from ear to ear and spread his arms widely for Ludwig.

Now Ludwig had a cute nickname. Not that Ludwig minded... not only that he liked having a nickname, but also Feliciano seemed really happy by calling him that. Ludwig stared down at Feliciano's eyes, then arms, and then shuffled awkwardly where he stood. Should he just lung forward for the hug or…?

While he looked down at his own toes confusedly, Feliciano stepped in front and hug Ludwig first instead. The German let out a strange noise while Feliciano nuzzled his cheek against him and squeezing his much larger body a couple of times. His hug with his new boss always felt so awkward in the beginning, but it always turned into warm, endearing gesture that Ludwig was more than welcome to accept. Feliciano made "Ve…" sound. He sounded like he enjoyed the hug. Ludwig could feel his lips twitching because he wanted to smile, but it was just not quite there yet. Feliciano hug him for sometime, mumbling something in Italian while his forehead was on the side of Ludwig's jaw.

Still hugging him, Feliciano muttered, "Luddy, Luddy, do you want to sleep with me?"

That was possibly the last thing Ludwig expected Feliciano would ask.

Ludwig wasn't sure whether this was some kind of test or just gesture of kindness. The hugging thing, however enjoyable, felt plain strange for him.

His brain quickly offered the simple truth that Feliciano Vargas _was _his boss. Maybe he asked so because he _wanted_ to sleep with Ludwig.

However absurd these whole things might sound, Ludwig knew that Feliciano Vargas was just being his usual self. With all the hugging and touching, maybe sleeping next to each other won't mean much.

But still… sleeping with a man he just met?

It would feel so unnatural for Ludwig.

It was so unlike him to even consider it. Ludwig knew that this was unusual because he could hear his late brother laughing, '_Mein Gott, _West—you? Sleeping with a man? And not even sleeping _sleeping_? Just snoring next to each other?' Ludwig wanted to roll his eyes to his imaginary brother on his head, but the second he remembered him, the sadness gripped him tightly once again.

His brother… his silly brother who overused the word 'awesome'… he was no more. His only family was no longer around and Ludwig would never be able to see him again.

Ludwig knew he wouldn't be able to go back to his quiet room and sleep alone for the rest of the night. His hostel room might be beyond terrible with noise from the street and his room-mate conversation that sometime lasts all night long, but they were great source of distraction. Ludwig knew the second he would have his bedtime alone in a room with no one else but him, he would feel so much pain like the last night he spent on the apartment he shared with his brother for years.

He had cry and grief so much lately that he felt tired of sadness. Though he might not always cry with tears from his eyes, Ludwig was so mentally exhausted from never-ending cry whenever he remembered that his only brother had leave him for eternity, whenever Ludwig remembered that he was left alone in this world.

Ludwig knew that for the sake of stopping himself from plunge down into insanity, he had to cling to ropes, however weird the rope might be.

Looking down at Feliciano, the stern-faced German nodded slowly.

"If you don't mind, Feliciano."

Feliciano's smile bloomed and Ludwig felt better already. At least he wouldn't be alone that night.

Just at the moment when he expected it, Feliciano lunged at him and hugging him, the Italian's arms wrapped to his back, under his arms.

"Veee! Sleeping with Luddy!" he squealed.

Ludwig was quite glad to know that with Feliciano's head on his shoulder, his boss wouldn't be able to see Ludwig's awkward smile.

Perhaps he just needed a hug. Perhaps 'home' wasn't a place, but pair of arms that will make you feel like you are in one.

* * *

Feliciano's room smelled like a mix between paint, flower, and soap-like smell. The flower one definitely came from the fresh flowers on the vases. There were at least four in that bedroom. The paint perhaps came from Feliciano himself, but then Ludwig spotted a small table filled with nothing but tubes of paints, accompanied with empty glass bottles, some filled with waters, palette, and tiny canvas that was perhaps used for trying colour. The soap smell might come from Feliciano who probably took shower before bed.

Ludwig only realized that he was staring around when Feliciano already climbed into his bed, rustling the sheet and blanket as he did.

When Ludwig was looking at him, the Italian patted the other side of his bed excitedly.

"Come here, Luddy! Come!"

Ludwig moved slowly, either hesitantly or shyly.

Never in his life he thought he would do something like 'going to bed with your favourite 21st century artist'. It wasn't like Ludwig found it to be annoying. He was very much looking forward to it, however unbelievable the thought might sound, even in his own head.

Feliciano was still staring at him; honey-coloured eyes wide with wondering why Ludwig hadn't climb next to him yet.

Out of nervousness, Ludwig coughed, "I never sleep with anyone beside my brother before. Even that ended when I turned ten years old." That was fifteen years ago. Now Ludwig already ran out of chance to sleep with his brother ever again. He felt a painful tug on his chest, but it didn't feel too bad when his new boss was around. It didn't feel as bad when he was in a company of someone else.

Feliciano blinked. The light on his eyes faded a little.

"I-it's okay, really," Ludwig scooted closer, started climbing the bed, face hot with weird embarrassment of telling his employer a very personal thing. He didn't even know why he told Feliciano that. "I never have parents. He was pretty much the only thing I have." After he fully sat on the bed, right next to Feliciano, Ludwig was attacked by more wave of embarrassment that he couldn't stop talking just now. "W-what about you, Feliciano?"

"Ve… I sleep with a lot of people," he answered cheerily as he leaned back. "I almost always sleep with Lovino after he returned from Antonio's care. But he ran back to Antonio when he got the chance, of course," Feliciano chuckled. "I slept a lot with my Grandfather! He's not with us anymore, but I learn a lot about painting from him. The strange thing was he was in the military, so no one expected him to be so good in art…"

Ludwig blinked as he stared at Feliciano. He didn't expect him to answer that much. However, Ludwig was glad to get a glimpse of Feliciano's past life, even though he read about it before out of admiration; the Vargas' grandfather, a member of _3º Corpo d'armata_ or 3rd Army Corps based on Lombardy and Piemont, was a carefree military man who, from his old photographs, looked a lot like Lovino with their dark hair. It happened because Feliciano's hair was in the lighter shade of brown—even though Ludwig only saw Lovino from Antonio's photo when the Spaniard showed him proudly the photograph of his "very adorable" partner.

Ludwig found it strange that he hadn't make the connection between Lovino and Feliciano before, but at least that helped him thinks about Lovino neutrally.

Feliciano looked down for a moment. Perhaps he was thinking of his late grandfather. He quickly regained his smile and shuffled on his place.

"Well then! You can sleep, Luddy. I have some scene from this movie I want to watch, so I can't sleep just yet. I'm afraid I don't have English or German subtitle for this Italian movie, so…" Feliciano's hands gestured rather wildly to the screen.

Ludwig shook his head, "It's okay. I think I'll just sleep. Thank you, Feliciano."

He slid down under the blanket while Feliciano resumed the movie and turned down the volume a couple of notch to the point that Ludwig couldn't hear anything but soft mumbles of Italian accent and a little music.

Everything was so perfect and comforting that Ludwig couldn't help but to sigh in relief. He was so happy and thankful for the kindness of other people. Antonio was Gilbert's friend for ages, but he helped Ludwig even though they only get closer when Gilbert fell ill. Antonio's partner, the soundly annoyed Lovino, also helped him on his own way. He told Antonio about his brother's situation. He let Antonio bring Ludwig to Italy.

Then there was Feliciano.

Feliciano's kindness was indescribable.

Ludwig closed his eyes to sleep, but the next thing he knew was that he covered his mouth with his right hand and started to sob so hard his shoulders shook.

Feliciano's kindness was just... too much.

Ludwig knew very well that his brother loved him so much. Antonio loved him too on his own way. But Feliciano was so much more. Feliciano gave him place to stay, feed him, hug him, and let him stay on his side, especially when Ludwig needed it the most.

The German's effort to stay silent when he cried was failing. Even though he already covered his mouth, tears were spilling from his pale blue eyes, and he was shaking, as if his body was rejecting the happiness he felt at the moment. Ludwig didn't want to cry. He didn't want anyone to see him cry, no matter what emotion he felt right now. He didn't want anyone to see him being weak and emotional. But he couldn't help it. The harder he tried to silence himself, the harder his body shook.

And Feliciano saw him.

The bedroom was dim and the light from the screen only outlined the Italian, but Ludwig knew he was staring at him because he could feel it.

Ludwig's initial reaction was frightened. He felt like he wasn't filling the criteria of strong male model Feliciano was looking for. He should be strong, muscled, and stic, shouldn't he? Ludwig shrunk, still sobbing, trying to hold himself, trying to hide himself. Feliciano was probably going to ask him to stop bothering him with his noisy sobs. Or perhaps, since he wasn't a mean person, he would ask Ludwig about the reason of him crying. Ludwig didn't want to answer why. The wound of his brother's death was still fresh and he was tired of people looking at him with pity.

"I-I-I'm s-sorry…" Ludwig sniffled and sobbed, feeling more pathetic than ever because he couldn't stop crying. His whole body felt like aching from crying. Why, just why he had to cry in front of Feliciano like this? Why couldn't he cry back then, on the safety and comfort of solitude on his own bedroom? Ludwig really didn't want to talk on why he was sad or touched, not now, not that when he liked Feliciano so much…

Feliciano only looked at him, his expression was unreadable. Or perhaps Ludwig couldn't read it because he was currently a complete mess and tears kept blurring his sight.

"I-I'm r-r-really s-s-sorry…" Ludwig sobbed once again. It was so unlike him and it was so embarrassing. Ludwig couldn't handle this at all.

He heard the sheet rustled and he could feel that Feliciano was inching closer to him. Ludwig didn't know what happened until he felt Feliciano's hand on his head. His new boss was stroking his hair gently, smiling as he did.

Ludwig could feel that his shaking was visibly reduced, but he still felt like crying.

Feliciano stopped stroking his hair after sometime and whispered, "If you need anything, just let me know, Luddy."

Ludwig could feel his tears were gushing again by those words, but he felt thankful that Feliciano didn't try to brush him off or care too much about what made Ludwig cry. Some people might like to share their feeling when they're sad, but Ludwig knew he was different, at least in this position. He didn't want Feliciano to know. He just needed to be beside him and cry, however strange that need was.

Feliciano sat straight again, his gaze back at the screen.

Ludwig never felt more relieved to see someone half-ignoring him while he cried. That was just exactly what the blond needed and it felt perfect.

He didn't know how long Feliciano sat there and watch the Italian movie. He didn't know how long he cried until his sob reduced to hiccup and gentle sniffle. He never cried so much in his life, not even when they lowered the coffin, when Antonio joined him in tears.

All he knew that Feliciano checked him up once in a while, looking at him and pat him on the head again, his small, delicate painter fingers brushing between Ludwig's golden locks.

And, oh, how Feliciano's touch was so much more beyond comforting.

Crying left him exhausted but relieved. As strange as it might sound, Ludwig was so glad he was able to cry. Now, it felt like all his sadness has vapoured together with his tears. It left him with nothing but tiredness, slightly swelled eyes, and an overwhelming sense of joy.

Bad things happened. The least thing Ludwig could do was to cry his heart out and try to live again next morning.

Wrapped in scent smelled like Feliciano's, Ludwig felt nothing but ease. It made him felt like the Italian constantly hugging him to sleep.

When Ludwig heard another rustling and darkness finally engulfed the bedroom almost completely, he knew that the movie was over and that Feliciano was going to sleep now. The Italian slid under the blanket next to him and Ludwig could feel his gaze once again.

After more rustles, Feliciano's arms were suddenly around him and Ludwig knew he was being hugged. With Feliciano's lips next to his forehead and his arms next to his head, Ludwig was just as surprised as usual whenever he received sudden hug from the painter. But then Feliciano stroked the back of his head and nape, before kissing him in the forehead before mumbling, "_Buonanotte, _Luddy."

With another, "Ve…" Feliciano squeezed Ludwig once before sleeping; the sound of his slow breathing could be heard not long after that.

Ludwig was dumbfounded for a couple of seconds. His face might as well melt with such temperature. Slowly, he could feel his whole body getting warm again from Feliciano's hug. It was such a comforting feeling. Albeit it began hesitantly, Ludwig moved his hands and hugged Feliciano back on his hips, while feeling the Italian's breath on his hair.

He never knew the joy of holding on to someone as he drift off.

For the first time since his brother's death, rainy night felt okay and Ludwig could fell asleep to calming, dreamless sleep.

* * *

**This chapter is approximatey 5,3k, twice as long as the last two chapters. I only want to put two parts on this chapter, which are the dinner and the sleeping, but they grew this long after sometime... I apologise. I didn't get to write them working and modelling just yet, so I think I should apologise on that too.**

**Thank you so much for Seele Esser Deutsch, maryranstadler1, Guest, and oO Miss Florence Oo for commenting on the last chapter. It's such a great push for me to write more and I appreciate every single one of them. Now I have rough idea on what will happen on the next chapter, but I'm still unsure...  
**

**Until next time.**


	4. Sunlit Morning

_Sometimes you can't explain what you see in a person. It's just the way they take you to a place where no one else can._

— Unknown

* * *

Ludwig woke up to warmth and cottony texture. He was groggy from sleep, but he already realised fully what happened last night. He opened his blue eyes to sunlit ceiling. The ceiling was tall and beautiful, contrast to the miserable bunk-bed ceiling he used to see back then. The window's curtain perhaps only closed partially or even not at all, because the room was bathed with light and warmth from the sun. Ludwig blinked slowly.

Even the colour of the sunlight was different in Italy.

It seemed to have more colour, warmer colours, than the one in Germany.

Ludwig was used to wake up early. Back in the hostel, wake up early means he had early access to the facility. But here, in this remote party of Northern Italy, he didn't have to worry whether he can use the shower alone. This place had plenty of bedrooms. Judging from the distance between door to door, almost every bedroom was identical with the one Ludwig used, meaning there was bathroom in each one. And there were only two people in the whole mansion.

When did Ludwig start to get so lucky?

The German sighed, enjoying the comfort he hadn't feel in such a long time; the sound of birds chirping outside, wind rustling the leaves, the high-quality bed and fabric he slept on, and the warm smell of sun in the air. The soap-like smell was slowly fading, but the paint smell stayed there. The smell reminded Ludwig of the engineer laboratory he used back at the university. It reminded him on the last stage of finishing a certain machine; coating and painting. It calmed him. It made him felt like he had accomplished something.

"Ve…"

Ludwig almost forgot that Feliciano was sleeping next to him—that the blond had spend a whole night sleeping beside his new boss. 'Beside' might be a far stretch, since Feliciano's arms were still on him. Ludwig couldn't help but to feel like he was some kind of large, huggable pillow.

Though he was sure he was more than comfortable that he wondered how Feliciano stayed in the same position the whole night. Ludwig was muscular. Muscle is hard, not soft. He understood when certain male liked to sleep against their much soft female partner, but Ludwig knew very much he wasn't soft—at least not soft enough to be hugged comfortably.

Still…

Staring down at the sleeping auburn-haired man, Ludwig couldn't help but to think that Feliciano was too trusting. What if the model Antonio brought to the Italian was secretly a serial murderer or simply a person with bad intention? When Ludwig was thinking on how to scold his new employer without being too harsh and also effective at the same time, Feliciano moved in his sleep.

Ludwig could swear his heart was about to jump outside his chest.

The move wasn't sudden or violent at all. It was actually very, very gentle, much like Feliciano Vargas himself. The painter mumbled another, "Ve…" as he nuzzled against Ludwig, the sound of his breathing sounded more audible than before that Ludwig couldn't ignore it anymore.

After sometime being embarrassed for possibly no reason, Ludwig started to enjoy how Feliciano wrapped against him. He never had anyone hugging him constantly as they sleep. It was as if Feliciano found sleeping against Ludwig as comfortable.

Ludwig? Comfortable?

Those two words were as far as his brother's name and word "lame".

Knowing that his cheeks no longer felt frustratingly hot, Ludwig dared to take another peek to Feliciano. He felt his heart soared by the sight of the Italian's smiling on his sleep.

Ludwig was now safe. He had place to stay. He had job. He could look forward to his next meal. He had bedroom and bathroom just for himself. He could enjoy minutes of this morning knowing he was in good hands for sometime.

Feliciano Vargas was truly an angel.

When he slept, he looked even more like angel. Unconsciously, Ludwig started to analyse the sleeping man. Feliciano's hair looked more red than brown under the sunlight. Ludwig didn't know what to think about the strange curl the painter had, though. His skin was visibly in darker shade than Ludwig. It looked like Feliciano spent a good amount of time under warm Italian sun. Perhaps he liked to paint outside as well, unlike Ludwig who spent the majority of his time indoor, with machine and books. Ludwig inched closer as he paid close attention to Feliciano's face. His eyelashes were in the same shade of red under the sunlight and they were quite long. The painter's body curled in a position that reminded Ludwig of a cat somehow. Like a cat too, his sleep seemed so peaceful.

Ludwig never woke up to someone's arms wrapped around him. He never knew that it felt really nice.

The morning was beautiful, now that the rain ended and sky was cleared from clouds.

But Feliciano was more beautiful than the morning, for the lack of more appropriate word in English.

Ludwig took his sweet time to watch the smaller man asleep against him. Feliciano's face was just as fascinating as his painting, Ludwig thought, though perhaps not everyone agreed on this. Ludwig was so engrossed in the activity that he didn't hear footsteps on the hall outside. Not when the German started his series of attempt to straighten the strange curl to the side of Feliciano's head. The curl resisted, bounced back to its former state and Ludwig kept trying, slowly and gently. Feliciano's hair was incredibly soft. Ludwig wondered whether that happened because the Italian used some kind of expensive shampoo…

Ludwig only realised there was someone else when the person knocked three times on the door. The knocks wasn't mean to ask for permission to enter, because the second Ludwig opened his mouth to say something in response to the knocks, the door was already flung open.

The German was expecting a maid, though in his opinion a maid shouldn't open bedroom's door—especially the master one—before given permission. Ludwig remembered that Feliciano said that maids will come at around eight, but it was only a little before seven according to expensive-looking alarm clock in the shape of small cuckoo clock on the side-table. Whoever came, there was a high possibility that they weren't maid.

And they weren't.

"I'm so sorry, Fericiano-_san_, but we—"

A rather-exhausted looking East Asian took a step inside rather loudly, before realising that Feliciano wasn't the only person on the bedroom. Ludwig knew that Feliciano was full of surprises, but this was more than he prepared to see or expect in the painter's mansion. Instead of someone with cleaning attire, the person who opened the door wore some kind of dark kimono over another kimono with lighter shade of blue. His black hair was straight and cut following a certain line on forehead and side of ears, but it seemed a little messy from what Ludwig guessed as long journey. The thought was supported by a pair of tired, rather red pair of dark brown eyes—the ones now filled with shock and embarrassment. A shade of red painted the male pale cheeks.

Ludwig could also guess what was going on in the man's mind right now.

He came expecting to see Feliciano Vargas sleeping on his own bedroom, alone on his mansion. But instead, he came to a very large, muscled blond man on Feliciano's bed, with Feliciano's arms flung around the man's chest now that Ludwig was in the middle of shifting from laying to sitting. Feliciano was visibly shirtless (Ludwig didn't know how he missed that before—perhaps the Italian stripped somehow in his sleep?) while Ludwig's dark T-shirt was somehow tugged so that one of his shoulders showed. Ludwig tried to think of something appropriate to say, something far better than, 'No! You misunderstood—whatever you're thinking about!' but he couldn't muster any words.

The look on the East Asian's man face was hard to decipher. If Ludwig were to choose only two, it would be either extreme disgust or unmasked joy piled with excitement.

"M-my aporogise…" he muttered, bowing down, and awkwardly stepped back before closing the door.

The echo of closed door's sound could be heard clearly and loudly.

Ludwig still half-laying, half-sitting there, jaw hanging open, mouth unable to say anything but a noises that sounded like, "A… aaah…"

He had _tons _of questions to ask now, such as who the man was or why he just entered Feliciano bedroom without permission. Did that mean the man had key to front gate and door? Judging from his look alone, the black-haired male couldn't be Feliciano's family. Friend, perhaps? Best friend that Feliciano gave key to his house? What kind of best friend barging into your bedroom at seven in the morning? Not that Ludwig had best friend before... Antonio was his brother's best friend, not his. Before Ludwig attempted to make further hypotheses, he realised that above all, Feliciano Vargas had guest and the painter had to be notified.

Ludwig started to sit properly. Feliciano's arms were now around his hips, tanned arms against pale, toned stomach. Ludwig pushed his shirt down to cover his skin and hesitated for a moment on where he should touch Feliciano to wake him up. His hair? His head? His cheek? His arm? His uncovered, tanned torso?

Deciding the shoulder would the best, Ludwig started to shake the Italian gently on both shoulders, while keeping his voice no louder than above whisper but loud enough to be heard clearly by his boss.

"Feliciano? Can you wake up? I think your friend—I assume he's your friend—was here… and he might've misunderstood us…"

Ludwig knew by now that the man in kimono might think that he had walked in to Feliciano Vargas sleeping with his new, rugged blond boyfriend.

Feliciano Vargas and Ludwig Beilschmidt weren't like _that_ at all.

* * *

**Author's Note: Thank you for maryranstadler1, Seele Esser Deutsch, oO Miss Florence Oo (props for really nice and long review!), and Guest for reviewing last chapter! Also, welcome aboard for the new followers! (To GerIta ship, that is.) I know this chapter is rather short, but just think of it as recovery from lengthy previous chapter. I guess by now you already know who this new character is. I really like the dynamic between the three of them, so I simply can't wait to insert him in the story as well. Well then, until next time!**


	5. Ringing Bell

_And when I think about it, I guess it is true that people always arrive at the right moment at the place where someone awaits them._

— Paulo Coelho, _The Pilgrimage_

* * *

"_Herr _Vargas said he'll see you in a while."

Exiting the bedroom, Ludwig Beilschmidt tried not to look on Feliciano's guest eyes as he spoke. When he finally dare to take a glance on the East Asian, he found him bowing repeatedly towards him, with his palms seemingly unable to leave his flushed face.

It took Feliciano quite awhile to be woken up. Even after the Italian opened his eyes, Feliciano asked Ludwig to "wake him up in five minutes". Following the order, Ludwig _did _wait five minutes—or four minutes and fifty-four seconds, to be exact—before he woke up Feliciano again. The painter was as cheerful as he was in when he was wide-awake or just woken up, which was a delight. His brother could be really annoying when he just woke up. Feliciano greeted Ludwig with something he called "good morning hug" and before Ludwig could say anything, Feliciano's arms were around his torso once again. Ludwig decided that he had to take this gesture as routine and responded the hug by a single pat on his new boss' back. Feliciano then asked Ludwig whether he wanted to tidy himself as well before meeting the guest.

Once Ludwig agreed to return to his room first, Feliciano told him to ask this guest to wait.

If he could choose, Ludwig would refuse to talk with the black-haired man until he took shower, well-dressed, and had breakfast—until his mind was ready enough to carefully tell this guest about the whole bedroom scene. Nevertheless, Ludwig agreed to deliver Feliciano's message. He had to do what his boss told him to do. That was just how the world works.

"My sincere aporogise," the man in kimono—or Ludwig assumed it was a set of kimono, since he didn't know much about it—bowed once again before looking up at him, his dark brown eyes reluctant in staring at Ludwig's pale blue ones.

Even though they were now standing close to each other, Ludwig still found himself unable to read the man's expression or his body language. Sure, people like him didn't have many reference on expression or body language, but this man was on the whole new level. It felt even more awkward when Ludwig realised that he was way taller than him. How tall this man could possibly be? Five foot five? Ludwig made a mental note to stand a little more backward the next time he should talk to this man when they were both standing up. That would help them dealing with the high differences.

"Well then, I'll be on my way," he said to him before walking back to his bedroom. Ludwig felt so exposed before realised he left the robe he wore last night on Feliciano's room. He walked faster, trying to focusing his mind on more important things like whether he could exercise after this or on asking Feliciano about laundry, work, and schedule. But no matter how hard he tried to focus on today's plan, his thought always returned to Feliciano's bed. The warmth and the images on what he saw still lingered on his mind. And then the guest suddenly barged in, while Feliciano's arms were still around him…

Ludwig definitely needed a cold, cold shower.

* * *

When Ludwig reached the dining room, the room that seemed to be the axis of the house's activity—or in that case, Feliciano's—so far, Feliciano was already there. So was the guest.

Feliciano was already dressed in his usual plain-coloured buttoned shirt and pants. He just finished plating the last dish for big breakfast, enough to feed perhaps six people.

"_Buongiorno_, Ludwig! Have a seat! Would you like a cup of tea?" Feliciano greeted him cheerfully, his now plate-free hands moving around as usual.

Ludwig wanted to drink coffee, but he believed tea would be better for him for two reasons. The first being polite against his new employer. The second being coffee contained caffeine. Caffeine made heart beats faster. As if Ludwig needed to be more nervous than he was at the current moment…

"A tea would be wonderful, _danke_," he walked slowly towards the dining table before stopped, eyeing Feliciano who already started pouring something that looked and smelled like black tea to an empty cup.

"What is it, Ludwig?"

"No. Sorry. Should I only speak English here? Or perhaps I should say _grazie _instead…?"

Feliciano laughed again. Ludwig liked the sound of Feliciano's laughter, but he didn't really understand why the Italian laughed.

"You can say whatever you want, Ludwig! Beside, I think it's good for me and Kiku to learn some German as well!" Feliciano chuckled and poured the tea again after stopping for laughing.

Ludwig nodded and muttered, "Thank you, Feliciano," before pulling his chair and sat. Now he know the East Asian man was called 'Kiku'. Ludwig could identify for quite sure now that this 'Kiku' was Japanese.

Kiku's tea was green. It wasn't clear like tea Ludwig had. It was also placed in some kind of clay glass instead of cup with saucer like the one Ludwig and Feliciano used.

Knowing that they would be in the same table until the big breakfast was finish, Ludwig coughed and glanced at Kiku.

"About what you see in the bedroom…" Ludwig started, though he didn't really know what to say. He was glad that by now Feliciano hadn't hug him like he did back then in the bedroom, but this guest might had still misunderstood. "… It's not what you think it is."

Feliciano had started eating something that looked like bruschetta, but Ludwig was too focused to Kiku to pay attention. He only heard Feliciano mumbling, "Veee…" in the background.

Kiku hadn't say anything yet. His dark brown eyes seemed to hold innumerable secrets and Ludwig was dying to understand what this Japanese man was thinking.

Feliciano filled the silence with, "What do you think, Kiku?"

Ludwig wanted to shout, 'Don't let him decide what he saw, please!' but he said nothing, waiting for Kiku's answer.

His answer, in calm and rather serious tone, was, "It's rike rear rife boys rove manga."

Ludwig understood none of those.

Normally, he would politely ask question on things he didn't understand. But since this very guest had already witnessed him sleeping on a bed with another man, Ludwig felt hesitant to ask what is "boys love" or "manga".

"No, Kiku!" Feliciano laughed again. The bruschetta had disappeared completely from his mouth and hand, leaving trails of crumbs that Feliciano dabbed away with napkin. "Ludwig is going to be my model!"

Feliciano had started helping himself with at least three teaspoons of sugars before he stopped abruptly. "Oh, I haven't introduce you two yet!" he clapped his hands in excitement. "Ludwig, this is Kiku! Honda Kiku! He is from Japan! Kiku is a very famous mangaka! He made that Japanese comic, you know. There was already cartoon serial and film from his work! His comic sold for millions and millions copy!"

Ludwig knew very little about Japanese comic, but the fact that he _knew _about them was enough. He could understand the gravity of Kiku's fame. Perhaps he was just in the same level with Feliciano, only from Japan and in different type of art world. It was really understandable that Feliciano had such a famous person as friend. "I'm sorry I don't know about you," Ludwig finally had something to say. He put down his cup of tea, trying to think about something better to say.

"It's okay," Kiku's head lolled down—perhaps in an attempt to bow. By now, Ludwig had learned that Kiku liked to bow a lot.

Feliciano had already finished a small plate of bruschetta. He pulled tomato-littered omelette against him, "Come on! Let's eat the breakfast while they're still hot!"

Ludwig started to fill his plate. He wasn't shocked to see Kiku's portion was smaller than his. During the breakfast, Feliciano kept talking while Kiku only nodded—or lolling his head down, presumably—and let out several, "Aaaa…" whenever Feliciano spoke.

When they reached another silence and when Feliciano had to fill his cup again, the Italian exclaimed, "Kiku is shy!" Ludwig could guess Feliciano was trying to help Ludwig understand the Japanese.

Kiku's head lolled down a little, "I prefer the term 'respectfur against even one crose friend'."

"We've been friends for years, but you still call me with 'san', Kiku."

"… What do you want to carr you, then?"

"Ve! You should use the cute-sounding one! I believe it's 'chan chan' or something."

"… It's actuarry just one 'chan'. Perhaps you were referring to 'Chan Chan Yaki'?"

"Wow! What's that, Kiku?"

"Hokkaido hot pot dish with sarmon, vegetabres, and miso."

"It's sounds so delicious! Can you make one for us, perhaps? _Per cortasia?_"

"I don't know… do you happen to have enoki mushroom, miso, mirin, and sake for the dish?"

Feliciano laughed as he said that he had none of those but sake Kiku brought the last time he visited. Ludwig just sipped his tea in silence, since he finished his meal already. Kiku had serious aura just like Ludwig himself, but for some reason his expression was really difficult to read.

"Well then! Since I want to eat this Chan Chan dish, let's eat that for dinner and go shop to town now! Would you like that, Kiku?" Feliciano announced loudly.

Kiku nodded, "My pocket camera's battery is furr." Ludwig could sense that Kiku was excited by the prospect of sightseeing Italy, but the German wasn't too sure about that.

* * *

After hectares of vineyards, Ludwig was finally greeted with yellow old walls, stony pavements, and loud Italian chatters. The small street was hardly enough for Feliciano's rather large and flashy car. Ludwig wondered why Feliciano owned such car and on the way, the painter explained that Lovino purchased it for him, saying that a Feliciano Vargas should ride a car as worthy as himself.

Ludwig was the appointed driver and supposedly grocery carrier a little later. The German didn't mind. He was there to work, after all. Once they parked the car, Feliciano went right away to nearest stall to purchase an amazing amount of food ingredients. He seemed to know where to get everything, so Ludwig just followed him, while Kiku took pictures and seemed to be extra pleased with the sight of fresh fruits.

Feliciano looked like Italy himself, Ludwig thought. Talking happily to his people, hands moving, smiling while picking his favourite tomatoes… everyone in this small village looked more like a big family than anything Ludwig ever saw. Only when they passed a stall that sold mirrors that Ludwig could see how out-of-place were Kiku and him.

Kiku had changed into something more comfortable for sight-seeing with jeans and shirt, but he still generally looked a little out of place with his extremely straight hair, little camera pocket in hand, and hands that didn't move much even when he attempted to respond to the Italians.

But Ludwig was visibly so much stranger. He was taller than most people there. With his paleness, ruggedness, and light-coloured hair, he was sure the three of them looked like a very strange group.

Holding two bags of vegetables, Feliciano asked Ludwig whether they should return to the car first so Ludwig didn't have to carry so many. Ludwig said it was okay because they were not that heavy for him anyway, so they continued their little journey through sunlit roads and crowded streets.

Ludwig didn't know how long they had been there. He had to give up his watch, but he could guess it was getting late in the afternoon, because the sun was higher when he looked up at the sky. He enjoyed the experience so much he forgot that lunchtime had come. Feliciano suggested them to eat in his favourite _ristorante_ and they went there, where the owner himself greeted the auburn-haired painter fabulously.

They got the best seat and Feliciano ordered "the usual, but for three people". Ludwig had put down the grocery and proceeded to sit down with visibly happier Kiku—it seemed like he got a lot of picture from his trip—and usually excited Feliciano. Ludwig took a deep breath and stared outside the window, to gorgeous, picturesque piece of Italian little town.

Staring up at the ringing bell from the local church, Ludwig felt a smile bloomed on his lips. Everything was so charming here.

He felt like he got a glimpse of the secret on why Feliciano Vargas made such wonderful paintings.

* * *

After a splendid pasta-based lunch, the three of them went home. Feliciano interviewed Kiku ravenously about the dish they would eat for dinner and Ludwig couldn't help but to wonder whether this 'Chan Chan Yaki' would taste as amazing as Feliciano's cooking. Sure, he ate food like sushi with his brother and Antonio back in Germany, but Ludwig knew they weren't very authentic compared to what he would eat that night.

Kiku had a serious aura around him, the one that Ludwig knew very well. He seldom spoke and spent the majority of his time gazing at things carefully with some kind of concentrating expression on his face. It reminded Ludwig of a very serious student who was told to pay attention to everything as the class went for field trip. The rest of the time, he pulled out a very thin, stylish-looking digital camera and took a loot of photo.

Even though Ludwig couldn't say he understand Kiku, he enjoyed the Japanese presence, as much as he enjoyed Feliciano's. They were very different, yet there was something so similar about them. Perhaps it was their way on appreciating and interacting with their surroundings. Perhaps it was an artist thing.

Feliciano took his usual nap at around two. After pulling off his boots, the Italian just dozed off on the couch, breathing very loudly on his sleep. Basked in sunlight, Feliciano slept with his legs and arms spread, muttering, "Ve…" as he did. With Feliciano slept, Ludwig was alone with Kiku for the first time.

The black-haired man didn't say anything as he pulled out the grapes they bought from the paper bag. Taking his eyes from Kiku after the Japanese pulled out bottles of olive oil and fish oil, Ludwig believed that they simply had nothing to talk about. Ludwig knew Feliciano for a day, unlike Kiku who had been his friends for years.

"I guess we courd start preparing dinner for now whire putting everything into their praces, Beilschmidt-san," said Kiku, with head ready to lolled down. Ludwig found the way Kiku pronounced his surname interesting. It sounded a little like 'Bairushumitto'.

Ludwig nodded, "Just 'Ludwig' is okay."

Kiku looked a little puzzled for a moment before he smiled visibly at Ludwig for the first time since they met, "Then you can just carr me 'Kiku'."

They shared smiles before continuing with their preparation for dinner.

Just like him, Kiku cooked efficiently, cleanly, and thoroughly. His portion was also normal, although it was a little less than an amount of normal portion Ludwig would have himself, just like breakfast. They worked wonderful together, albeit in silence, with the only loud sounds coming from cooking and Feliciano's breathing.

Outside, the warm Italian sun lit the wind-rustled vineyard once again, delivering sweet smell of soil and leaves, mixed with the delicious smell of cooking from the kitchen. The sun had setting down gently on the distance, painting the view outside with gentle shades of orange. Ludwig was mesmerised by the view. Cooking dinner in nice kitchen, meal to look up forward to, great cooking partner, really kind boss…

Ludwig closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as the wind blew towards him from opened window.

It had been sometime since he felt this relaxed.

It had been sometime since he met someone new.

So far, Feliciano Vargas and Kiku Honda were absolute delight for Ludwig Beilschmidt. He couldn't be more thankful.

* * *

**Author's Note:****Thank you for Seele Esser Deutsch, maryranstadler1, and oO Miss Florence Oo for commenting the last chapter! Also, thank you for those who favourite-d and followed "Understanding of Light"! You all make me so happy! I had a lot of fun writing Kiku in this chapter. I think he's very charming and adorable in his own way… but then again, I feel that way about all characters in Hetalia! (In short, I love them all and I think they're all very unique and interesting.) In case you're wondering, I imagine Feliciano's place to be somewhere in Tuscany, Central Italy. Isn't Italy just gorgeous? I had a lot of fun describing the setting as well! **

**I'll see you in the next chapter.**

**P.S.: Friendly reminder Japan kind of ****_did_**** witness Germany and Italy looking very lovey-dovey, canonically. I don't know whether that part is in the anime or made it to the released manga, in case you don't follow the original strip, but it did happen and it involved panty-less Italy and Germany who only wore towel after shower. You can read it on Hetalia's LiveJournal, entry number 377624, titled "The First Axis Powers Joke in a Long Time".**

**To summarise that chapter, sometimes I feel like Himaruya Hidekaz-sensei is begging at us to ship GerIta…**


	6. Warm Kotatsu

_Sometimes beautiful things come into our lives out of nowhere. We can't always understand them, but we have to trust in them. I know you want to question everything, but sometimes it pays to just have a little faith._

— Lauren Kate

* * *

Feliciano woke up after more than an hour of siesta. The first thing he did was sniffing the air, for Kiku had started the preparation for the dish. The second thing he did was exclaiming loudly, "I had a dream about yellow bird!" The auburn-haired Italian had moved his hands around excitedly even though his eyes looked like he was still sleeping, no larger than streak of lines.

To Ludwig's surprise, Kiku responded casually with, "What kind of bird it was, Fericiano-san?" The German then assumed that this had happened several time and Kiku was always ready to ask question on Feliciano's dream whenever they got together. While Feliciano told the story about chick-looking bird to Kiku, Ludwig checked the clock and wondered whether he could take a shower before dinner.

The vegetables had started to be steamed and all they needed to do know was wait. After cleaning up the rest of kitchen with Kiku (Feliciano sat on the dining table and started to eat at least three tomatoes like they were crisps), they went back to their rooms for cleaning up for dinner.

Ludwig took awhile in the shower. He usually done it in fairly quick time, but it had been awhile since he experienced something so enjoyable that the German couldn't help but to daydream about it. After dressing himself with something casual but polite enough to be wore in front of work colleagues, Ludwig slicked his hair back as usual. He then stared at his reflection on the mirror.

He looked a little worn out and overall quite unhealthy. Hopefully, he could wake up early tomorrow morning and started his working out routine that he had missed since he left Germany. Giving his hair another stroke back from his forehead, the blond exited his bedroom to the kitchen.

* * *

The dining apparently didn't take place in the usual dining table, but in a special room upstairs. Feliciano had brought the pot dish upstairs, but Kiku stayed behind to wait for Ludwig while cleaning the kitchen for the night and checking ingredients for breakfast tomorrow. Ludwig decided he really liked Kiku as they walked upstairs to the 'special dining place'.

The room was at least twice as big as Ludwig's current huge bedroom. Ludwig believed it was designed as some sort of recreation room because there was nothing there but books—almost half of them, Ludwig realised, was manga—a lot of pillows on various type of sofa, piles of blankets, a tall, glass-door fridge on the corner of the room, and home cinema set with large speakers. The centrepiece of the room was perhaps a strange-looking table with blanket draped over it.

Ludwig knew what that thing was. Or perhaps he thought he knew. He knew it was a Japanese thing, because Kiku looked at the thing like one gazed at microwave, while Ludwig was unsure on what to do with it, even though Feliciano was already sat next to the table-blanket thing, on cushions with blanket draped over his lower body.

"Come on in, Guys! The kotatsu feels amazing!" he waved both of his hands towards them.

Kiku was already halfway sitting when he realised that Ludwig stood still.

"Is this perhaps the first time you see kotatsu, Rudwig?" the Japanese asked.

Ludwig nodded once, but he quickly lowered his body as well and mimicked what Kiku did. After all he could learn by seeing. It was just a little bizarre to him that at one point in his life he would eat Japanese pot dish with blanket on his legs while sitting on the floor. The tallest male had guessed that there was some kind of heating under the table, for his legs felt warm after he entered them underneath the blanket. The table was a little small for him, Ludwig had to admit, but he knew that the thing was probably designed for Kiku-sized people instead of his.

When Ludwig was busy adjusting his legs underneath the kotatsu—his legs, the German realised, were longer then Feliciano's or Kiku's and he had hard time fitting them without bumping into other males' legs—Kiku skilfully arranged bowl and the pot dish so that everyone was ready to eat. Ludwig never experienced such thing before; sitting down on the ground for eating, while their legs brushing each other underneath the blanket, making the German extremely aware of the size of his muscled legs.

Before eating, Kiku said something that sounded like "Itadakimasu", while Feliciano prayed with serious expression (because his auburn-coloured brows were furrowed). Ludwig stared down at his portion and thought about his brother.

_Antonio, why does God choose to make us suffer?_

Ludwig shut his eyes closed.

Feliciano was praising Kiku's cooking. Kiku humbly replied that Ludwig helped, but the said person wasn't paying attention. Even though he was sitting on a kotatsu, Ludwig felt cold.

The younger Beilschmidt was back in time. He returned to the time when he had finished cleaning up the two-bedroom apartment he used to live with his brother. The activity left Ludwig with only two bags of possession and a bundle of memory of living with the awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt. Antonio helped Ludwig with the cleaning. Though the Spainard help was very much appreciated by the blond, Ludwig couldn't help but to feel tortured.

That night, Antonio bought four cans of best beer he could get his hands on and shared two of them with Ludwig. They were slightly drunk when they finally readied for sleep in Ludwig's bedroom. Ludwig already told Antonio he could use the other bedroom if he wanted to sleep somewhere more comfortable than the floor, but Antonio said he wanted to accompany Ludwig. The blue-eyed male was unable to even glance at his brother's bedroom door, let alone saying things like, 'You can sleep in my brother's bedroom, Antonio.'

Ludwig knew Antonio stayed for a long time from the sound of the fabric rustling. Somewhere after midnight, after resisting the temptation to initiate a conversation, Ludwig called for Antonio. Ludwig must have been slightly drunk, because he started to talk about how angry he was—about how sad he was.

_Why do we all have to die, Antonio? I'm so angry._

Even though Ludwig didn't even bother to turn his body around so he could face Antonio, he could sense the older male's shock, or perhaps confusion.

_What do you mean, Ludwig? What are you angry at?_

_At… whatever it is that brought us here. God, Spirit, Higher Self… _Ludwig snickered in the darkness at the time. _I believe in whatever is there, though I don't know what. We're not just here by accident, Antonio. But life happens like accident. Human has to suffer. Why do we have to suffer? I mean, if you're God in Heaven, you can easily make things easier for us. You can forgive us. You can let things to be easier, less painful for us._

_Ludwig… _Antonio probably sat, because Ludwig could hear the rustles.

_If you're God, you can grant everyone's selfish request—because if someone is gone and you selfishly want him back, God can grant you that—but, no, Antonio, no. You _chose _to make us suffer. Why do you do that? Why are you doing this to me?_

_Ludwig…_

"Ludwig…"

"Rudwig!"

Ludwig Beilschmidt returned to his current reality by the sound of Kiku's unusually loud voice. The blond blinked and realised he was stunned for sometime that both Feliciano and Kiku had stopped eating and talking. Kiku looked scared and it scared Ludwig how he could read that from a Kiku Honda. Feliciano's expression, however, was on entirely different level. The Italian looked like he was about to cry. Ludwig tried to smile to calm everyone down, but he knew he couldn't even smile.

"I'm so sorry," he sighed. "I just…" He gestured vaguely to himself.

"Do you need to go back to your room, Ludwig? You can always finish your Chan Chan Yaki later," Feliciano leaned closer and Ludwig could see a gleam of tears on his amber eyes.

There was no way Ludwig could let them worry about him. The least he could do was stay there and try to feel better so he didn't bother two of the most amazing people Ludwig ever met.

"I'm okay," for some reason, Ludwig could smile, though briefly. "I think I'll eat the dish now."

The dish tasted delicious. What Ludwig tasted and what Ludwig saw were two separately different things and he enjoyed the experience so far. Japanese dish definitely tasted unlike anything and the blond voiced his compliment adequately to Kiku, who made another unreadable expression—the one that Ludwig strangely thankful for—and the black-haired man smiled while his head lolling down as usual.

After they finished the whole pot, they watched Kiku's comic movie ("It's called 'anime'!" explained Feliciano excitedly, his honey-coloured eyes were gleaming proudly that he knew the term and could explain it to Ludwig). It took sometime for Ludwig to get used to the style of Japanese drawing and animation, for the characters—especially the female—had rather large and very colourful eyes, but it took him less than one episode to get used to it. After then, he started to enjoy the story, especially the main character, which reminded him very much to some sort of combination of Kiku and Feliciano.

The protagonist might seemed strange or unreliable at first, but then Ludwig got to know them and learned that they were such sincere people who care about others more than themselves. There were other stuffs too, like strange weapon or surprising setting, but overall, it was very enjoyable. Ludwig felt like now he could understand why this 'anime' and 'manga' thing got so popular all over the world, even in Germany. There was a certain charm to it, a charm that everyone could understand easily even though they came from such different background.

That night certainly made Ludwig respect Kiku as much as he respected Feliciano, in all artistic sense. Feliciano made beautiful painting that made Ludwig feel like he was dipped into calm, tranquil pond, while Kiku's animated work engrossed him no less than a great movie, despite everything being two-dimensional. It was funny when Ludwig think about it, since Feliciano and Ludwig seemed like the opposite of their works as people; Feliciano was the loud and exciting one while Kiku was the quiet and calm one.

After sometime, Feliciano fell asleep with his legs still under the kotatsu table. Kiku followed not long after ("_Oyasumi_, Rudwig," his head lolled down before the Japanese lied down and closed his eyes), while Ludwig intended to finish the whole season. When the last episode's credit rolled in, he just realised that the other two did meant to sleep here, in this very room. Ludwig actually liked the idea, since the warmth from kotatsu made him very reluctant to leave. Maybe he just needed to nudge a little so his legs wouldn't bother Feliciano's and Kiku's too much.

Lying down with kotatsu blanket only reached around his chest (was Ludwig _really _that big compared to the other two? Kiku could wrap himself to the neck just fine), Ludwig took a deep breath sleepily.

After all the sound from the anime ended, the air was filled with nothing but silence, the sound of Feliciano's "Ve" aside. The silence felt very comforting. Ludwig slowly closed his eyes to sound of wind rustled the vineyard once again. The sound depicted the depth of distance surrounding Feliciano's mansion, on how the three of them were alone for miles, on beautiful view of vineyard outside.

Ludwig couldn't help but to feel guilty since he hadn't work and hadn't really done anything important for the past two days, but then he remembered all the supposedly "job" Feliciano made him to do, such as eating delicious Italian food, sleeping together, and helping him with the groceries. Ludwig wanted to work more and better soon. Nevertheless, he enjoyed everything so much. It was nice to spend his days doing mainly everything he enjoyed instead of what he supposed to do. His days back in Germany were all work and aiming for certain goals. Though Ludwig hadn't forgot any of it, he felt like he eventually got the wonderful holiday he deserved. It was blissful—so blissful to the point that even Ludwig had to lose everything all over again, he wouldn't mind at all.

* * *

That night, Ludwig dreamt a vague dream of his brother. He knew something was strange because his brother seemed very calm, but at the moment, Ludwig couldn't understand that he was dreaming. He only realised he wanted to hold on to his brother and not letting him go, but the white-haired man shook his head and smile with a smile that made Ludwig heart ached.

"West, you are still living," his brother chuckled, his red eyes lighting up with excitement. "You still have your whole life waiting for you! There are still so many adventures to experience, so many new people to meet…"

Now, the one who shook his head was Ludwig. He wanted his brother. He didn't really want life without his brother in it. But he was unable to say anything in that dream and it was very frustrating that Ludwig felt he could just cry out of frustration.

"I know you love me, West. Why wouldn't you? I'm awesome! But we should know when something has to end. Even all the great empires had to cease to exist in the very end, even Berlin Wall had to fall… so go have fun while you're around, _Bruder_! Live your life, West. Live it to the fullest!"

Ludwig shook his head stubbornly once again. He knew his brother was right, but Ludwig didn't _want _to be right. He wanted his brother. He wanted his brother to come back into his life, to that apartment; to the life Ludwig knew his whole life.

"I know you love me, West," repeated his brother, smiling smugly just like Ludwig remembered. "But now that I can't be with you anymore, why don't you spread the love you have for me to everyone? To people who can still be with you? That way, we'll be connected forever—that way, I'll always be your big awesome brother no matter where we are or whether we're separated, okay?"

Ludwig woke up gently to silence. Feliciano and Kiku were still sleeping. It must had been sometime after midnight. Ludwig closed his eyes and shuffled on his place, feeling the warmth on his legs. Albeit momentarily, his legs brushed Feliciano's and Kiku's, reminding him that they were very much real and they were around. Ludwig wasn't completely alone. He didn't have to suffer all by himself.

It took Ludwig sometime to process what just happened in his dream. The German shut his eyes one again, this time tightly, and muttered, "Gilbert…"

That was the first time Ludwig could say his brother's name out loud without wanting to break down and cry or to die. After all, just like Gilbert said on the dream, they were indeed still brothers. The tie wasn't severed even though Gilbert was no longer with him. And the world could always use some more love…

Smiling to himself and to his awesome brother in heaven, Ludwig eased back comfortably into a calm, peaceful sleep.

* * *

Ludwig woke up to sounds of bird chirping and warm sunlight. Knowing that he didn't have to wa ke up right away, work speaking, the blond took a deep breath and let his eyes opened at their own pace after deep sleep. His brain slowly recalled the event yesterday; Honda Kiku, grocery shopping on small Italian town, Chan Chan Yaki, kotatsu, and anime from Kiku's manga.

With half-lidded eyes, Ludwig attempted to stretch his arms. To his surprise, his arms were stuck into something—something warm, rather heavy, smelled faintly of boiled pasta, and mumbled, "Ve…"

Ludwig gasped, wanting to scramble away, but a pair of surprisingly firm hug stopped him by clung around his waist. The German abruptly sat, hoisting the upper part of his body on his forearms, looking down at sleeping Feliciano who somehow found his way to Ludwig's side of kotatsu. His new boss slept extremely soundly, had already stripped to almost nothing, and drooled into the front of Ludwig's shirt.

In such moment, it was very easy to forget that Feliciano Vargas was a respectable, famous painter on his early thirties.

Ludwig knew he didn't hate the hug. He was merely surprised that he didn't realise Feliciano came to him in his sleep. Feeling his cheeks became hot again, Ludwig exhaled slowly, trying to think about his options. He could simply go back to sleep or he could try to wriggle Feliciano away so he could get up and prepare breakfast after a little work out. Or perhaps—

"I understand, Rudwig-sa—I mean, Rudwig."

Ludwig turned his face in horror to fully awake Kiku, who was still in his sleeping clothes but already got hold to his sleek digital camera. His legs were still underneath the kotatsu's blanket, but his body language said 'very much awake and alert'.

Continuing calmly, the Japanese's head lolled down as he smiled, "You don't have to be shy about your relationship with Fericiano-san. As far as I'm concerned, Fericiano-san and I are just friend. Therefore, you don't have to be embarrassed if you two want to cuddre every night with me around. I can appreciate the different Western curture."

Ludwig was at loss of words once again. Kiku totally misunderstood! What was wrong with this Japanese and his reference of "boys love"? Ludwig mind screamed, stuck at wanting to spill out ten denials at once. Before Ludwig managed to even make a sound, Kiku wriggled his digital camera, with a strange, rather nasty expression painted his usually unreadable face.

"Werr then, Rudwig… may I take photo of you two hugging under kotatsu, prease?"

Ludwig couldn't help but to groaned. His cheeks were flaming hot with embarrassment and confusion, watching that Kiku's index finger was a little too close to the camera's capturing button.

"_Nein_, Kiku! You may _not_! This is _not _what you think it is—whatever it is! _Gotten himmel_!" growled the muscular man loudly, to the smaller man who yet again made another unreadable expression.

Feliciano managed to sleep peacefully through all the wriggling and shouting afterwards, with his arms around Ludwig's hips and his constant "Ve…"

* * *

**Author's Note****:** **Thank you so much for ****oO Miss Florence Oo****, ****maryranstadler1****, ****Seele Esser Deutsch****, and ****MiyukoLove****for for your comments on last chapter. Thank you for everyone who has favourite and follow too! I am neither Italian, German, nor Japanese, so if any of you notice any cultural mistake on this work, please let me know and I'll be more than happy to be correct it!**

**I hope you like the Axis trio friendship as much as I do. More GerIta is coming soon, though, so have no worry! Anyway, about what manga Kiku wrote, you can use your own imagination. I'm sure you all know more than three big anime/manga fandoms that sold for millions copies. I think most of famous Japanese work has main character that we can deeply relate with so that was the part I can surely wrote about.**

**I apologise for the angst-y part with Antonio and Gilbert, but I believe it has to be there. The part when Ludwig talked about how God chose to make him suffer was largely inspired by Humans of New York's post on Tumblr. It's post number 101438388426 if you want to check it out yourself. Well then, I'll see you on the next chapter!**


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